


Crisp

by ianavi



Series: I have your permission? [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU - John is a scientist, AU - Sherlock is a scientist, Discussing limits, Dom!Sherlock, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex, POV Sherlock Holmes, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Sensation Play, Sub!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 13:44:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4351043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ianavi/pseuds/ianavi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crisp. Crisp white stationary and crisp concise language.</p><p>'Dear Dr. Watson,</p><p>I would like to offer my most sincere apologies for my inappropriate behaviour. I feel the utmost respect for you and deeply regret any action that might have caused you distress.</p><p>Sincerely yours,<br/>Sherlock Holmes'</p><p>After a moment of uncertainty he was unable to suppress, but also strong hope, he added his mobile number at the bottom of the page.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crisp

Crisp. Crisp white stationary and crisp concise language.

'Dear Dr. Watson,

I would like to offer my most sincere apologies for my inappropriate behaviour. I feel the utmost respect for you and deeply regret any action that might have caused you distress.

Sincerely yours,  
Sherlock Holmes'

After a moment of uncertainty he was unable to suppress, but also strong hope, he added his mobile number at the bottom of the page.

The letter was to be delivered today. After a change in weather it was a clear and crisp morning. Quite the opposite of what Sherlock's sleepless night had been.

Five days ago he'd woken alone, the bed next to him empty and long cold. Still, he felt only warmth at the memory of their first meeting. Such beauty, passion, trust. 

He'd hoped to order an extravagant room service breakfast and keep the smaller man in his arms for as long as possible. The previous evening had left him more emotionally invested than he'd believed himself capable. One evening. And he was ready to give everything up to repeat it.

He tried the reception and was told Dr. Watson had checked out of the hotel already.

Without a word.

Had he misread something? Had he not offered the control, the pleasure, the care to the best of his capabilities?

He'd failed and he didn't even know how.

A successful scientist, a man known for his precision, dedication, fairness by his colleagues and subordinates at work. But that was all work. Had he spent too long alone to satisfy an extraordinary man like Dr. Watson?

The days that followed were empty. Morning tea, day at the lab, evening dinner at the kitchen counter, reading, mostly sleepless nights.

He looked at the reflection in the mirror. Already thin and pale he now looked gaunt and gray in his crisp white starched shirt and dark suit jacket. Perhaps the man had woken up next to him and regretted submitting to someone so austere in appearance and character.

His phone pinged in the sitting room and he walked towards it with dread.

'Dr. Holmes, would you accept an invitation for coffee? - John'

He sat down at his desk and reread the message.

'At your convenience. - SH'

'May I knock on your door again? - John'

His heart was beating rapidly. He typed in his address.

'I'll be there in an hour. Thank you. - John'

And all the apprehension biting at the edges of his desire evaporated. He was to do this properly. No lustful rushing. He'd need to demonstrate he was capable of full dedication. And long term commitment. He took a calming breath at the thought.

After a few minutes of focused planning he set about preparing the things he'd need. He remade his bed, leaving the bedspread at the footboard, as well as some towels, and arranged extra pillows on the middle of it. On the nightstand he carefully placed a bottle of water and laid out the things he'd picked up the day before when he'd made his decision to approach the man.

And just as the hour was about to pass, he prepared tea and served it on a tray lined with white linen, in a very formal fine bone china teapot with matching cups and saucers.

The doorbell rang.

He opened the door and was met with a smiling man running one hand through his ruffled blond hair. Black leather jacket, dark jeans, heavy boots, and, surprisingly, a matte black motorcycle helmet in one hand. Absolutely breathtaking. He smiled back speechless.

"Please, come in." He gestured up the staircase. "I am upstairs." And stood aside to let the man pass so he could follow him up and take in his reactions. Upon seeing him enter his flat with curious glances he felt a tingling of excitement.

John stood in the middle of the sitting room, warm smile and slight blush. 

"Thank you for seeing me on such short notice."

Sherlock approached to stand near him. "Please, take a seat. I'll take your jacket."

John looked on as he took the helmet from him and set it on the nearby desk, then helped him out of his jacket taking care not to touch him and hung it on the back of a chair.

"Motorcycle?"

"Yeah."

"Is that safe?"

And John giggled. Amazing.

They sat in the two armchairs across from each other.

"I hope you don't mind tea. I don't have any coffee."

"Tea is fine."

He poured aware he was being carefully watched.

"How do you take it Dr. Watson? Milk, sugar?"

"John, just John is fine. And a bit of milk, please."

"John, I do hope you accept my apology." He cleared his throat. "I admit I was unprepared for our initial meeting. We had not properly discussed your expectations and I had rushed." He took a sip of tea.

John blushed a deep red. "Oh, no, I am the one who should apologize. I am... inexperienced in these things. My behaviour was immature." He shifted in his seat and spoke quietly although still with that beautiful shy smile. "Both in the way I demanded your attention and the way I left without explanation. I... I admit I panicked."

Sherlock could not take his eyes off him. Even slightly nervous he radiated anticipation, joy even.

"I would very much like us to... see each other again."

Again the incredible smile and most certainly unconscious gesture of licking his lips. He could not suppress the memory of that tongue under his mouth, under his cock.

"I'd enjoy that, too. Immensely."

And Sherlock smiled back. He took a moment to pour them more tea, aware he was getting aroused just from the small cues John was conveying. Still, no rushing.

"In that case, I propose we discuss things properly. You say you are inexperienced? And yet you spoke about permission and chose to approach me by kneeling in front of me?"

John stammered a bit. "I... I'd had a brief encounter with someone more experienced at university. Very brief. And not since then... well, not successfully anyhow. I've read some things and I suppose I have been looking for an opportunity for some time now."

Who in their right mind would have this man below them and not pursue a long term relationship?!

"There are places one can go to meet like minded people. And these days the internet, of course."

John shrugged. "I didn't want it to be transactional. It was, is, always about chemistry with me." Another laugh.

"There are things we need to discuss and agree on. I myself have not done this in a while and my priority is for you to feel safe and comfortable. And I'd like us to take time. It does not have to happen today."

John looked slightly dispirited as he rubbed one thigh with the palm of his hand. "Of course."

"Or were you hoping for something more today?"

With a slightly rushed exhale John looked at his boots and answered. "Please?"

Sherlock felt his cock twitch at the word. Control. He had to proceed very slowly.

"What we did last time, was it satisfactory?"

A hopeful look. "It was perfect."

"Any parts you didn't enjoy?"

"It was too brief."

"John, we do need to discuss your limits. Do you know what I'm talking about?"

John nodded and spoke with a sure voice. He'd obviously thought this out. "No cuts or permanent marking, no filth, nothing medical or military, nothing in public or in front of others or filmed. I am open to discussing pain beyond mild and various... implements, but have no experience with that. And no sharing."

Sherlock smiled. "Oh John, I promise you I will never share you." He set his tea cup down. "This is a short list, but it's a start. We can discuss details ahead of time each time we meet."

"Yes... that would be good."

"I assume things we already tried like fellatio are fine?"

John was totally unaware he was licking his lips, and the effect of it on Sherlock, as he nodded. "Yes."

"And for today, would you be willing to try light restraints and some sensory play?"

And John's lips parted with a small gasp.

"Yes." He set his own cup down and placed both of his palms on his thighs.

"If you want something to stop. You will use the word 'stop' and I'll cease immediately. Is that clear?"

"Yes."

They looked at each other for a few moments, Sherlock focused and calm, John vibrating with anticipation and clear joy.

"I have your permission?"

"Yes." John lowered his eyes.

"Come with me to the bedroom."

They stood up, Sherlock took John's hand in his and felt incredible happiness. He couldn't help himself, he leaned down and kissed him. Thoroughly. Leaving them both a bit breathless.

"Come." And he wrapped one arm around John's waist and lead him to his bedroom.

John's eyes immediately went to the nightstand and Sherlock allowed him a moment to take in the carefully arranged items.

Sherlock sat on the edge of the bed.

"And questions, reservations?"

John looked straight at him and shook his head.

"Come and kneel for me, John."

It was beautiful. The man slowly lowered himself at Sherlock's feet, still in clothes and boots, hands on thighs, head bowed, eyes low.

Just like during their first encounter Sherlock carefully placed his hand on the exposed back of the neck and allowed them both time to calm down a bit.

"Gorgeous, you truly are."

He felt John's body relax under his touch but still did not move for long minutes.

"I'd like to undress you. Come sit next to me on the bed."

He carefully helped John up. Then brought him, eyes low but still open, closer for another long kiss on the lips. He then pulled off his own shoes and socks and knelt in front of the man.

"This is not about me overpowering you. We may have different needs, but we stay equals." He carefully untied and took off the boots as John watched. Then socks, handling each foot gently, letting his fingers wrap around the ankles. "And it is not about pain or extravagant toys. We may or may not get to those things. It is up to us to decide together." 

He reached up to unbutton the cuffs and touched John's wrists gently. And reminiscent of the first time they touched he grasped one wrist in a strong hold as the other arm reached up to undo the shirt buttons, one by one. No rush.

John was watching it all, allowing the soft manipulation of his limbs, breathing a bit rapidly but still calm.

The shirt was open at the front and Sherlock traced his fingers over clavicle, chest, careful to avoid the nipples, stomach. Slowly but with a sure touch, light pressure. He took in the scarred shoulder and touched it attentive to John's response. No discomfort, good.

Then the shirt was off and draped over the footboard. Still on his knees, he took his time running his hands over the arms, shoulders, down John's sides. His eyes were closed now, his head a bit lower, cheeks blushing, skin becoming dewy with sweat. Beautiful.

He got up off his knees and carefully, arms under lower back and knees, laid John on the nest of pillows. John sighed and looked absolutely content. And they had barely started.

He sat next to him and spread one hand over his heart, feeling the beat, reassuring both of them. No rush.

"Comfortable?"

After a while, John nodded.

He fell into submission so naturally, not withholding anything, not challenging, nor speaking out of turn.

Next were the jeans and the briefs John wore underneath. He was already erect but far from desperate. Sherlock touched the muscular calves and thighs covered by incredibly alluring honey-colored hair, the knees.

He had positioned him to recline comfortably on the pillows, arms spread to the sides, knees slightly apart.

"I will use silk ribbons for restraints of your arms and legs."

He proceeded to thread the long black ribbons through long-unused rings on the bed frame. First the ankles, not too far apart, no need today. John's breathing picked up. Then wrists, arms positioned to the sides and not towards the headboard as he yet did not know the extent of the flexibility of the injured shoulder.

The ribbons done he sat back to watch. It was an arresting sight. The contrast of white sheets, tanned and blushing skin, black silk.

"Still comfortable?"

Another nod.

He picked up a shaving brush from the nightstand and repositioned himself between John's open thighs. He started on the outside of his left ankle, slowly brushing up the leg, swirling the soft bristles over the knee, the inside of the thigh. Watching as goosebumps raised curly hairs.

John was breathing through his open mouth, small breaths that stuttered as the brush reached more sensitive areas.

Although previously pliant and unmoving he would now shift his limbs from time to test the restraints. After all, their purpose was not to hold the more than willing John still, but to anchor him, and excite him.

Watching John take his pleasure was wonderful.

"You are so lovely. Perfect. Perfect."

Sherlock took his time, balancing his body just over John's on knees and one hand, taking the brush over most of the beautiful exposed skin, including face, ears, neck, armpits, navel, around his balls and finally the just exposed crack below them.

John was shivering and gasping as the soft bristles flowed over more sensitive areas, several times unable to suppress a moan.

And finally, as Sherlock slowly, very slowly, brushed over his hefty straining cock. John sobbed.

Time to change intensity.

Sherlock lowered his head and sucked at the skin of one pectoral. John startled and pulled at the restraints. Beautiful.

He continued to lick, suck and gently bite John all over his chest, neck, sides, stomach, thighs. Taking care to not leave bruises.

And John groaned and pulled at the restraints, thrusting his hips, his cock now deeply red and so very needy.

Sherlock was enjoying this himself and had to take care not to indulge the growing need to just rut his body against John's prostrate one. With one hand he unbuttoned his trousers and grasped his own painful erection.

He bit one more time on the soft inside thigh.

"You may cum as soon as you wish, John."

And he took both John's balls into his mouth and lightly sucked.

The response was magnificent. John was twitching, moaning openly, pulling at the ribbons, his cock straining.

And finally Sherlock sucked that exquisite thick cock into his mouth fully and moaned himself. 

With one hand desperately pulling on his own erection he mouthed at silky foreskin, licked and sucked at the head and swallowed greedily and deeply.

Loudly and violently John broke into a powerful orgasm. And Sherlock was unable to suppress his own.

He took only a moment to look down at the man on his bed.

"You are stunning. Absolutely gorgeous."

He then made quick work of the ribbons, massaging each joint as it was freed, checking the skin for bruising.

"So good for me, truly perfect."

John looked content and sleepy. He shifted him on his side and, shucking off his stained trousers and shirt quickly, laid down next to him and pulled John into an embrace.

He kissed into his hair.

"I am never sharing you, never."


End file.
